


paper wishes

by fiveroundsrapid



Category: Holby City
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 21:54:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11322492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiveroundsrapid/pseuds/fiveroundsrapid
Summary: Just a quick one-shot in the middle of the episode 'Paper Wishes' where Ric and Bernie hae a quick chat about Serena.





	paper wishes

Bernie was working at the nurses' station, manning the fort so to speak whilst Nurse Fletcher and the new girl, Donna, hunted down their runaway patient. She was getting on with her job, trying to book in that MRI for Fedja and then get things back on the road. She had a mountain of paperwork to complete and believe it or not, Hanssen had requested a one-on-one meeting with her. A stabbing pain in her chest. It would be about Jasmine. Bernie cleared her throat, almost as if it would dislodge the acid burning in her throat every time she thought of that bright young girl, bleeding out in the theatre. She would clear her throat, or blink slowly, to get the image from her eyes, and push on. Bernie Wolfe wasn't very good at confronting emotions. In the Army, in action, there was at least a cause. A purpose for all those young lives dying. With Jasmine, she didn't think there was ...anything. No reason. No justification. Nothing but a label:  _accident._

Bernie put Mr Novak in the timetable and then closed the window, stretching upwards, and glancing round the ward, eyes landing on Ric coming in. He approached, staying out of the nurses' station though, leaning against the glass top. He was starting to look as though he had been taking 'looming' lessons from Hanssen.

"Something I can help you with, Mr Griffin?" Bernie asked, eyeing him through her hair. The blonde locks were trying to be tied down by a blunt ponytail, but her fringe was getting out of control. Haircuts. Never quite seemed to get booked. But she didn't mind. She could see well enough and so would just brush them aside. Ric fixed her with a look that made her pause with patient files and gives him her full attention.

"You didn't tell Serena?" Ric asked her, raising his brows at her. Ric was confused. Understandably so, he thought. Jasmine's death, just a day ago, was a priority for everyone. Making sure that all investigation was in place, and all support adhered to. Ric would have thought that not only would Serena Campbell have the  _right_ to know, but that Berenice Wolfe would have the good sense not to soldier alone. More fool him, apparently.

"I'm sorry?" Bernie let out. Bernie's back instantly straightened; she stood to attention every time  _her_ name was mentioned. How could she not? It sent lightning bolts through her veins, made her heart quicken. Ever since she had gone away, it was as if her name was taboo on the ward. Whether that was for Bernie's benefit or the staff personally, she never could figure out. But it made each mention more relevant- a proof that she had been more than a dream, and that she just might come back some day. Becuase that was the deal, wasn't it?  _Hope._

"Serena. I've just been on the phone with her." Ric told her, straight. "I had to tell her about Jasmine." He stressed the words, making sure Bernie knew exactly what he was getting at. That was the fact that it should not have been his responsibility to tell Serena about the F1's accident. Serena had been, well, it was hard to tell over the phone, but she wasn't okay with the news, of course. A bit dazed, surprised. Like the rest of the hospital. Bernie looked away.

"Yes, I-"

"What I don't understand is why you didn't." Ric interrupted, his frustration getting the better of him. He tried to tone it down, knowing that it would do no good if he got angry at Bernie over this. "What I mean to say is, I thought you two were... still okay, before she went off on sabbatical and-"

"We are." Bernie was quick to respond, even get a small smile at it. 

"So?" Ric asked.

"So. I couldn't find the time. Or the words." Gone again was the eye contact, her hands fluttering uselessly between files, trying to look at or concentrate on anything but the steady watch of the GS Consultant. "Listen, thank you, Ric, but I'd better get on." 

"Bernie."

"Honestly, thank you for passing on the message. I didn't phone her because I didn't know how to tell her what happened because I can't deal with it yet. I'm just about managing to the trauma bay and AAU, and the last thing I need right now is to tell the woman I love devastating news when I can't be there to support her. When the most contact we've had is via text because she wants distance, to find herself and give us time and space. Ironic, I know, but there we are." Bernie breathed hard after her little speech. Ric stood, a little stunned at the multitude of words. "So thank you, Ric, for telling her. I know she had a right to know. But Serena-"

Whatever Bernie was going to stay was stopped. The doors clattered open on the wards, voices loud as can be and the two were wrenched away from their conversation by the wheeling in of Fedja Novak, unresponsive and in need of care. Both doctors went over, Ric doing a retinal examination. The decision was made: get him into the trauma. But Ric held Bernie's gaze for a split second. Message received: this was not over. 


End file.
